Olympic Gold
by Louise Hargadon
Summary: An Olympic themed story about our favourite Olympian turned aquanaut. A little wistful, a little thoughtful - but still very Gordon...!


_**A/N: **__I can't watch the Olympic swimming (and trust me, I've watched a LOT of it!) without thinking of everyone's favourite aquanaut. As for my cover photo - this is probably the most Gordon-like photograph that has ever been taken. I swear, if the ungodly hot Ryan Lochte was ginger, he would be exactly how I expect Gordon to be - the same prankstery mischief-making personality, that lopsided, one-dimpled, knicker-disintegrating grin, the naughty twinkle in his eyes... *sigh* So I thought I'd just write a little wistful stream-of-consciousness thing about Gordon watching the 2068 games and thinking back to his own success in 2060._

_Dedicated to my fellow Gordon Girls, __**MelodyCurious**__ and __**LiGi**__ (wherever you may be - hope you're enjoying the swimming as much as I am!). And to my very good pal and general partner-in-crime __**Teobi**__, because she's fabulous and I love her._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Thunderbirds. My interpretation of the chaps is just that - my interpretation. The only people who really know what happens on Tracy Island are Gerry Anderson and his merry band of supermarionation-making pals. I'm simply borrowing the lovely Gordon for a while. I like borrowing him best of all, and at least I always give him credit for saving the day!_

_Also, the Olympic Games will likely not be hosted by Victoria, Paris and Johannesburg in 2060, 2064 and 2068 respectively. But if they do - you heard it here first...!_

**Olympic Gold**

The 2068 Games!

The Aquatic Centre in Johannesburg was a hive of activity. The warm, oddly comforting smell of chlorine flooded the air. The acoustics of the auditorium made every whisper sound like a shout. People chattered excitedly, their voices echoing and reverberating around the centre. A few people stood on their tiptoes and dodged the people in front of them to get a better view of their heroes. There were several different events on that evening, but everyone was especially interested in the Men's 400m Individual Medley. It was one of the most prolific races and one that every competitor had spent what must have felt like forever dreaming of. There was no time to be scared, no margin for error. This was it, the moment they'd spent years training for - all encapsulated into roughly two and a half minutes of butterfly, breaststroke, backstroke and freestyle. The tension and gravity of the occasion was enough to tie a knot in the firmest of stomachs.

Gordon wasn't competing in the events this year, of course. The hydrofoil crash had ensured that he would never swim competitively again. Any dreams he had of becoming a modern-day Lochte or Phelps were gone forever. He had been too busy with his work at the inception and startup of International Rescue in 2064 to even consider going to the Paris Olympics - and, if he was absolutely truthful with himself, the distraction from the games that year was most welcome. It had hurt him so badly to know that he wouldn't be competing that year. He didn't even have a chance to defend his title.

The first thing the US Team coach, Jim McIntosh - known affectionately as Big Mac - had said when he met the twelve-year-old Gordon was that he was far too short to be a swimmer.

"He'll never make it. Matt Grevers was six feet eight! What's this kid gonna be? Five nine, five ten?"

"That's okay, Coach. I'll just swim faster than any of the big guys," Gordon suggested. Coach McIntosh grinned.

"You've got fire, though, kid. I'll give you that. You've got fire," he chuckled, clapping him warmly on the back.

Gordon kept true to his word. Although he hadn't quite finished growing at the age of 16, he could still 'swim faster than any of the big guys'. He didn't know if it was coincidence or if it had been arranged for comedic effect, but he'd taken Lane 5 at the Victoria Olympics for his 200m Butterfly - and Lane 4 was taken by Justin Bowman of Australia, a six foot ten colossus of a man. Gordon had caused the entire aquatic centre to erupt in laughter as he made a great show of looking Bowman up and down with feigned horror on his face before throwing his hands up in the air with a level of drama that even impressed Virgil, and declaring in a loud voice, "You gotta be kidding me!"

Justin Bowman peered down at Gordon to glower imposingly at him, but Gordon met his glare with a grin and a wink.

"Hey, now, don't worry - I'll be right here waiting when you finish, big guy!" he told him in a pseudo-comforting tone, just before they were shushed into silence. He grinned to himself as he heard Justin snarling next to him, but as soon as the buzzer sounded, it was down to business.

He could barely remember the swim itself. He just remembered the water. Some days in training, he felt as though the water was made of treacle and that he would never make it from one end of the pool to the other. On the day of the race, the water felt more like a light condensation. He truly believed he was part dolphin for just under two minutes. He didn't know and he didn't care what was happening to anyone else in that swimming pool, all he knew was that he had to make every stroke of his own count. Justin Bowman had hands like shovels and feet like canoes, all affixed to his tree-trunk legs and gargantuan arms - he swam one stroke for every three or four of Gordon's, but that couldn't fill his mind. He just had to concentrate on finishing. The whole pool seemed to light up when he finally touched the sensor plate for the last time - he wasn't sure if he was first, he hadn't heard anything or seen anything to indicate who had finished where, all he could hear around him was the deafening roar of the crowd, and he wasn't even sure what they were saying, until he finally turned around to see the scoreboard.

**1. USA. Gordon TRACY**

His jaw dropped.

"Me?" he mouthed, pointing at himself. He wiped water droplets from his face as he scanned the crowd to find a familiar face. The first two he saw were his father and Scott leaping up and down excitedly, cheering for all they were worth and hugging each other until their eyes bulged. They finally released their grasp on each other long enough to wave over at Gordon, who pointed at them and shot a wink their way. "I did it!" he whispered, almost afraid of speaking aloud in case it had all just been a dream or they realised they should have given the gold to Justin after all.

It took approximately four weeks for the smile to be wiped from Gordon's face for longer than half a minute. He slept with his gold medal under his pillow every single night, to prove to himself that his dreams could come true if he worked hard enough. Then all of those dreams were shattered by the crash. He was destined to only ever have one Olympic Gold.

Immediately following the crash, his old Olympic-themed dreams made way for new ones. More basic, but nonetheless important new ambitions arose which he had fought just as hard to realise. His family were told he wouldn't survive the hydrofoil crash. They were then told that even if he did survive, he would likely be so badly brain damaged that he would spend the rest of his life in a vegetative state. Then he was told he would never walk. Then... he was told that he would never swim competitively again.

"I beat all those other odds they gave me, Coach, why can't I beat this one?" he'd demanded.

"Maybe the next games, son."

"The next games? The next games I'll be 24! I'll be almost middle aged!" Gordon protested. His coach smiled kindly at him and shook his head.

"Maybe the next games," he repeated, patting his shoulder.

Gordon picked up on the small flicker in his coach's eye that told him he didn't have the heart to tell him it was over. If he was honest with himself, even though by normal standards he had recovered miraculously, he knew he wouldn't even qualify for the Paralympics with the state his right shoulder had been left in. He still had steel pins in his left leg when he'd had that conversation with the coach. Alan had joked that if he started training again he might rust - and was subsequently left with a black eye.

It was a brave man who dared to broach the subject of Gordon's lack of participation in the Olympic games that year. When the day of the 200m butterfly finals arrived, Gordon shut himself in his room and just hoped nobody would notice. Of course, someone did notice. The brother who noticed, and subsequently determined to fix, everything that affected his younger brothers.

"I know it's rough, Gordo, but... You got a gold medal at the Olympic games! People dream of what you did, but how many ever achieve it?" Scott had asked him, sitting beside him on his bed and squeezing his shoulder gently. Gordon had smiled ruefully and looked back at him.

"I could have done more," he had answered, simply. "I wanted more." Scott draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

"I know, buddy. I know."

When he received his invitation to the Olympic Games for 2068, he immediately threw it in the trash. That part of his life was over now, he decided. He had responsibilities. People's lives weren't suddenly going to stop being in danger just because the Olympics was on for a couple of weeks. People who didn't even know it yet, they needed him. Really _needed_ him. They didn't need someone who swam a few lengths of a pool for a living. They needed a hero. Someone they could depend upon. Someone who would really help them. They needed him. He needed the fact that they needed him far more than he would ever dare to admit.

He told himself, and anyone who would listen, that he had no room left in his life for caring about who was the current world record holder of the 100m freestyle, or who was in contention from Team USA for the 400m breaststroke. No matter how much he protested to anyone else, Gordon already had all of that information and far more besides clearly inscribed on his brain. He ached to join the team again, but he was sure it would kill him to be so close and so far from being a part of the experience. He hated being on the outside looking in.

If it hadn't been for International Rescue - Gordon really didn't know what he would have done. All those lives he'd saved since it began, but he still wasn't really sure if the Tracy boys were the ones who did the rescuing or the ones who were rescued. Perhaps it was a little of both.

Gordon wouldn't have gone to the Johannesburg Olympics at all if it hadn't been for Tin-Tin, who, unbeknownst to him, saw him throw his invitation away and retrieved it. A few nights later she asked him if he would help her with some maintenance to Thunderbird 4, and when she was quite sure they were alone, she took the invitation out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"You've been going through my trash?" he asked. "Have you been taking snooping lessons from Grandma?" She shook her head.

"I saw it more as a salvage mission," she explained. "Why aren't you going?"

"I've no time. What about International Rescue?" he asked. "I don't have time for swimming any more."

"You don't have time for swimming?" she repeated, incredulously. "Gordon Cooper Tracy, Olympic Gold Medallist, has no time for swimming?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"_Former_ Olympic medallist," he corrected her, sharply. She stroked his arm gently.

"You still have the medal," she pointed out. "Don't you want to go?" she asked. He shook his head and stared at the floor sullenly.

"I don't want to be a spectator," he answered, barely louder than a mutter. She nodded.

"That must be tough," she acknowledged. He sighed.

"I just want to forget the Olympics ever happened. My life's moved on since then," he told her. She looked at him.

"Have you moved on?" she inquired. He looked back at her for a moment and opened his mouth to say 'yes', but faltered.

"I miss it so much," he whispered. "So much."

"Then you should go. At least go to say goodbye," she urged him. He pursed his lips and sighed heavily.

"You wanna be my plus one?" he asked with a shrug. She grinned.

"I've already packed," she told him with a chuckle.

Tin-Tin felt a little overdressed as they walked into the aquatic centre, even though Gordon had made it quite clear that she'd underdressed rather significantly. "You can't trust swimmers! You go near the Olympic village dressed like that and you'll come out walking like John Wayne!" he insisted, taking off his jacket and holding it up in front of her to save his blushes.

"How do you know?" she asked, intrigued.

"What happens in Victoria, stays in Victoria," he answered mysteriously, briefly tapping his nose. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who's Victoria?"

"Jeeze, you know me!" he declared, laughing loudly.

"Oh my god! It's Gordon Tracy!" a voice to Gordon's left declared, excitedly. Gordon turned and saw a female reporter, armed with a camera crew, waving frantically to get his attention. "Jess Blakely from QPTV. Can we get a quick word, Gordon?" she asked with a winning smile.

"Accelerate," Gordon replied with a grin as he walked past them. Tin-Tin thought she was going to die laughing as she clung onto his arm. He quickly felt guilty, stopped and turned back to the reporter. "I'm sorry," he told her, chuckling at Tin-Tin's inability to control her own giggles. "You'll have to ignore my sister."

"Your sister?" Ms Blakely repeated, incredulously, staring at the scantily-clad Malaysian girl stood with him. He looked at her, then looked at Tin-Tin and shrugged.

"Close enough," he explained, shaking his head dismissively.

"We weren't sure we'd see you this year at the games," she told him.

"No, I wasn't either - but it turns out I had a weekend free in my schedule, and Johannesburg is beautiful at this time of the year," he replied.

"How does it feel, being here but not competing?" she asked. Gordon's face fell momentarily, but he quickly recovered with a smile as he felt Tin-Tin squeeze his arm comfortingly.

"It feels weird, I have to admit. But, you know, Team USA has some great talent this year, they won't miss me too much," he answered with a nod.

"You're here to support Team USA, of course?" she asked. He paused, bit his lip and threw her a lopsided grin.

"I'm just here for the swimming," he replied, his smile not fading but a hardened look in his eyes telling Ms Blakely that he had said enough. Thankfully, she was smart enough to notice it and nodded her understanding.

"Thank you for your time," she answered. "It's been a pleasure to speak with you," she told him.

"The pleasure was half mine, Jess," he answered with a wink before he turned away and headed towards the stands.

The familiar tension and excitement of the competition started to rumble in his belly and he felt his legs shaking as he walked towards his seat. He squeezed Tin-Tin's hand as they sat down.

"Ready?" she asked. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm ready. Hey," he began, nudging her. She looked up at him questioningly. "Thanks, buddy," he told her sincerely. "You were right. I needed this." She smiled back at him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"You'll always be our champ, Gordon," she answered. He nodded.

"Damn straight I will be!" he agreed with a laugh.

**THE END**


End file.
